


By Proxy

by herbailiwick



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Matchmaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:55:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For theoriginalspike.</p><p>Mycroft tries to play matchmaker. He tries very, very hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Proxy

All of a sudden, Sherlock was taking John out on more outings. They were getting back into the swing of Life After the Fall, so it wasn't exactly _strange_ , though it did seem a little frivolous, considering that Sherlock kept saying they weren't investigating.

They went to see an orchestra. It was lovely. And, apparently, it wasn't for a case. That was  _still_ tripping John up, and they'd since been to the opera, to the cinema, to a ballet, to a fancy restaurant, and taken a ride in an actual horse-drawn carriage.

"This is starting to look a bit...romantic," John told Sherlock awkwardly.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "As usual, John, you see but you do not observe."

***

At their second fancy restaurant, John asked, "Are you sure this isn't for a case?"

"John, you've really got to stop asking that." 

Sherlock, much more appreciative of the finer things like fancy food after his time away from the dullness of regular society, stole some of John's pasta.

***

"Okay, no, seriously. What the hell. I mean," John shook his head. "The London Eye?" 

"Yes, the London Eye. You _are_ aware we're getting stares?"

"Look, if you missed London this much—"

Sherlock gave him that "Did You Know You've Grown A Second Head, John?" look and said, "It's not London I missed. But if you take issue with us spending so much time together, I can empathize. It _is_ a bit excessive, don't you think?"

John blew a breath out in relief. "Well, maybe just a bit."

"I'll pass the word along," Sherlock said with a nod, and John was suddenly lost again.

***

Two months after it all started, they were at the cinema again. 

"This is the last time I join you without a full explanation," John complained. "I mean...what the hell? Seriously. What the hell?!"

"Have you noticed who else you've been seeing more of?"

John rubbed at his forehead, shaking his head slightly. "None of these movies look good, I'm," he scowled down at the seats in front of them, "being shushed by a teenage girl, and my flatmate is insane."

"I think I'm with the teenage girl on this one, John. Do shut up. But I'll expect an answer when you've got one."

***

"Mycroft! We've seen more of Mycroft."

"Yes. Good. Finally." Sherlock didn't look up from the medical text, which sucked the gusto out of John.

"Any particular reason? It's connected with the outings, right? So he's been...bribing us?"

Sherlock glanced up. "Very good, John. Yes."

"Oh. Okay. Bribing us to do what, exactly? Forgive him? We're...we're alright, aren't we, all of us?"

"Well, I think Mycroft's finally cracked under the pressure of holding up this great nation on his matronly shoulders, but." Sherlock shrugged.

John sighed.

"If you really want to know, ask him," Sherlock said.

"Um. No. You should. He's _your_ brother."

"He's the idiot sending me tickets. I'm not going to rock that ill-informed boat."

"Ill-informed?"

Sherlock smirked. "He's certain of his observations, Mycroft. But then, he's always had a bit of a blind spot where I'm concerned. Next time he comes to annoy me, you should join us."

"I wouldn't want to intrude."

"I'd hardly call it intruding."

Sherlock said nothing more on the matter.

***

John threw his hands up in defense as he came down the stairs. "Just in dire need of a sandwich," he announced, bustling pointedly about the kitchen. "By the way," he called out to Mycroft, "what's the purpose of all the tickets?"

The Holmeses were suddenly both very quiet, and John swallowed. 

"I would have thought it would be all-too transparent," Mycroft finally returned. "Silly of me, in fact. But I thought...thought you both deserved a chance."

John kept on making his sandwich, though Sherlock seemed to be waiting for him to understand something. John finally asked, "A chance for what, then?"

"To be together," Mycroft admitted.

John stood for a moment, considering. Alright, that actually made sense. He set the knife on his plate, stepping back into the living room to say, "That's actually very kind of you. Of course, you Holmeses have that ability, even if Sherlock rarely uses it. And I. I appreciate what you've been doing," John said to Mycroft, who was watching him with wide blue eyes. "I really do. I'm just not interested in Sherlock that way. We're friends."

Mycroft slowly turned the wide-eyed look to Sherlock, then back to John, and then he rose to his feet and cleared his throat politely. "I'm dreadfully sorry," he said with a little wince. "I." He didn't seem to have any more words.

"It wasn't _all_ dreadful," John joked, but Mycroft was nervous and apologetic and back-peddling down the Assumption Road, was resaucering his cup and finding his umbrella.

"I don't understand why it bothers him so much that he got it wrong," John commented, watching from the window as Mycroft slipped into the dark car. "Geniuses _do_ get things wrong, you know. I mean, look at you."

"You don't know what's going on here," Sherlock said with a frown.

"No," John said, throwing up his hands. "Obviously, I don't. Stupid, simple John Watson. I'm gonna go eat my sandwich."

"I think he would have felt better had he been right; that's true," Sherlock said like the very idea is a curious one.

"Why? What business is it of his whether or not we want to be with each other? I know he's a bit protective, but he should really get another hobby."

Sherlock tutted softly, shaking his head.

"It's not like I reacted with horror or anything. I'm not homophobic, if that's what he thinks. I have nothing against Mycroft, even that. You just don't float my boat."

"Oh, we've been over this," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "And, seeing as I don't really have much of a boat to float, I'm not exactly pining. We're perfectly content with our deep and, to others, confusing, friendship. I'll give you one hint about Mycroft, though."

"A hint?" John paused. "Okay. Alright, then, Sherlock. What is it?"

"His motives weren't entirely selfless. Now that he's wrong, he's got a lot to consider."

John frowned. "Consider?"

"New...possibilities."

"You mean he'll try to set you up with other people?!" John blurted out, actually shocked by the idea of Mycroft trying the tickets thing with Sherlock and a slew of unprepared strangers.

"John," Sherlock groaned, head in his hand. "John, take a deep breath. Think about this rationally. Or, irrationally, considering it's Mycroft."

Shaking his head, John had to give up for the night and just eat his sandwich.

***

It wasn't until Mycroft showed up after Sherlock had clearly just left that John began to understand.

"It was the coward's way out, I'm afraid. My version of biting the bullet," Mycroft murmured into the mug. "I won't bother you with strategic tickets again, but I do think you'll like those." He nodded to the envelope on the table. "Please accept them as an apology for being meddlesome."

"It was sort of...thoughtful," John admitted. "And Sherlock wasn't exactly telling you to bugger off. What was your point, anyway? I think he's happy, even without being in a relationship."

Mycroft looked down again. "Personally, I was finding it hard," he sighed. "I was finding it hard to watch the two of you dance around each other romantically, as I saw it. As we've established, I leapt to a very wrong conclusion." He shrugged.

"Why was it so difficult?" John pressed. "Were you eager for Sherlock's happiness?"

Mycroft smirked slightly, looking up, setting the mug down. "That was part of it. Because I was so sure you could make him happy in ways no other person could. And the other part of it was that," he paused, took in a deep breath. "I was envious. I'm sorry. I thought if I could get the two of you together at last, there'd be no reason for my envy, and that I'd cease becoming so distracted."

"Distracted?" 

Mycroft ran his eyes along the lines of John's body before meeting John's eyes again, no hint of a joke in his gaze. "Distracted." 

John blinked. "Distracted by _me_. By...me?!"

"Yes," Mycroft swallowed. "Though, if you're not entirely against the idea, perhaps—"

"Might as well," John said quickly, and Mycroft squirmed in his seat, adjusted his tie.

"Really?"

"Only, this time I'll cover the tickets," John said, adding, "As long as I can afford them. I guess, in a way, I've been experiencing what dating you would be like for two months now. My turn now. Probably won't be too fancy. Something nice, though. Maybe even a picnic. Would you go for that sort of thing?"

Mycroft flushed a little and covered it up with a sip. "Yes," he admitted. "John, I'm sure it will be fine."

John stood to take the mug from the man and give him a swift, sure kiss. After all, Mycroft had certainly spent a lot of effort trying to woo John, even if it had been through Sherlock.


End file.
